Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Street Dreams, artist - Nas. Date of issue: 26.07.2009
Song language: English
Street Dreams |
| Street dreams are made of these |
| Niggaz push Beemers and 300 E’s |
| A drug dealer’s destiny is reachin a key |
| Everybody’s lookin for somethin. |
| Street dreams are made of these |
| Shorties on they knees, for niggaz with big G’s |
| Who am I to disagree? |
| Everybody’s lookin for somethin. |
| My man put me up for the share, one-fourth of a square |
| Headed for Delaware, with one change of gear |
| Nothin on my mind but the dime sack we blazed |
| with the glaze in my eye, that we find when we crave |
| dollars and cents, a fugitive with two attempts |
| Jakes had no trace of the face, now they drew a print |
| Though I’m innocent, til proven guilty |
| I’ma try to filthy, purchase a club and start up realty |
| For real G, I’ma fullfill my dream |
| If I conceal my scheme, then precisely I’ll build my cream |
| the first trip without the clique |
| Sent the bitch with the quarter brick, this is it |
| Fresh face, NY plates got a Crooked I for the Jakes |
| I want it all, Armor All Benz and endless papes |
| God sake, what nigga got to do to make a half million |
| without the FBI catchin feelings |
| From fat cat to papi, niggaz see the cat |
| Twenty-five to flat, push a thousand feet back |
| Holdin gats wasn’t making me fat, snitches on my back |
| Livin with moms, gettin it on, flushin crack down the toilet |
| Two sips from bein alcoholic |
| Nine hundred ninety nine thou from bein rich but now I’m all for it |
| My man saw it like Dionne Warwick |
| A wiser team, for a wiser dream we could all score with |
| The cartel Argentina coke with the nina |
| Up in the hotel, smokin on sessamina |
| Trina got the fishscale between her |
| The way the bitch shook her ass yo the dogs never seen her |
| She got me back livin sweeter, fresh Caesar |
| Guess, David Robinson’s, Walle' moccasins |
| Bitches blow me while hoppin in the drop-top BM |
| Word is bond son, I had that bitch down on my shit like this |
| Growin up project-struck, lookin for luck dreamin |
| Scopin the large niggaz beamin, check what I’m seein |
| Cars, ghetto stars pushin ill Europeans |
| G’n, heard about them old timers OD’n |
| Young, early 80's, throwin rocks at the crazy lady |
| Worshippin every word them rope rockin niggaz gave me |
| The street raised me up, givin a fuck |
| I thought Jordan’s and a gold chain was livin it up |
| I knew the dopes, the pushers, the addicts everybody |
| Cut out of class, just to smoke blunts and drink naughty |
| Ain’t that funny? |
| Gettin put on to crack money |
| With all the gunplay, paintin the kettle black hungry |
| A case of beers in the staircase I wasted years |
| Some niggaz went for theirs, flippin coke as they career |
| But I’m a rebel stressin, to pull out of the heat no doubt |
| With Jeeps tinted out, spendin never holdin out |